Free Web NovelIan paid little attention to the elf suddenly stiffening at the hand contact. If this guy started whining about getting lost and clinging to his sleeve every few minutes, it would only slow them down. Taking the lead himself was simply more efficient.
The “shortcut trap” was essentially a cross between pathfinding and Minesweeper.
Just as stepping on a mine in Minesweeper meant instant death, touching a mine tile here resulted in exactly the same outcome.
So how were you supposed to avoid them?
‘You read the signals.’
Every mine tile had surrounding indicators warning of its presence. These were called “trap tiles.”
Just like the numbered hints in Minesweeper, the amount and placement of those trap tiles revealed where the hidden mines were located.
That was why Ian had gathered piles of stones earlier.
In Minesweeper, you clicked a tile to check it.
Here, the process was considerably more physical.
“How does it work?” the elf asked after listening to Ian’s explanation.
“Like this.”
Standing at the entrance of the far-right corridor, Ian took out the item [Stone Pile (F)] and tossed it ahead.
Thunk. Roll...
Fragments of stone scattered across the floor.
Then silence followed.
“...?”
Just as the elf was about to ask if nothing had happened—
SLAM!
A gigantic steel blade crashed down directly in front of them.
But it didn’t stop there.
Further down the corridor—
SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!
One blade after another dropped in sequence, the metallic echoes reverberating through the passage.
The malicious intent behind the timing was painfully obvious. The trap deliberately allowed the first step forward unhindered, only to cut off retreat and rain blades down the corridor afterward.
‘Hmm.’
A viciously orthodox design.
Ian nodded in approval before glancing toward the elf, who was staring with his mouth hanging open.
The elf slowly placed a hand over his chest and inhaled deeply.
“If we can’t dodge that... are we getting turned into minced meat together?”
“Probably.”
Though “flattened into paste” would’ve been more accurate than minced.
Still, the demonstration seemed to have achieved its purpose.
‘At least this clueless idiot should be more cautious now.’
The elf let ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) out a long sigh after hearing Ian confirm it so casually.
“Our bodies becoming one... that’s weirdly romantic.”
Ian ignored the nonsense completely.
“These twelve trap tiles mean there are twelve mine tiles around them.”
“Wow.”
“You obviously can’t step on them, but you can’t even throw stones onto them either. The moment anything touches them, it’s over.”
“Ah, so we just fly over them?”
“Do whatever you want. I’m only explaining the mechanics. Also, this route isn’t the exit.”
“Wow. How do you know that?”
Finally. A question with actual substance.
Feeling unusually generous toward the newbie, Ian explained.
“You saw how the trap activated, right? The blades fell horizontally.”
“Well... blades are usually long.”
“No. The important part is that the trap covers the entire width of the corridor. Remember this carefully—the defining feature of this area is that a trap tile’s influence only extends one tile outward. So what does that mean?”
“My head hurts already.”
Ian ignored the complaint.
Honestly, how long had it been since he’d experienced the joy of teaching a newbie in this cursed game? Guiding clueless beginners through mechanics was its own special kind of satisfaction.
“A trap tile must always have mine tiles around it. By ‘around,’ I mean all adjacent directions—north, south, east, and west. But this trap spans the entire corridor, right? So what happens?”
“Uh... right.”
“Focus. Do you think I’m explaining this for fun? Your life literally depends on it.”
Ian clicked his tongue in irritation.
“Fine! I’ll just do whatever you say, okay? Just tell me where to walk,” the elf pleaded.
Ian ignored him again.
“In short, this corridor leaves no available surrounding space for the trap tiles. Under normal rules, that would mean no mine tiles could exist at all. But apparently the dungeon creator didn’t like that. So they came up with a brilliant idea.”
Ian smiled coldly.
‘If there’s no room beside the trap tile, just attach the mines to the next trap tile instead.’
“That’s how you get twelve consecutive trap tiles immediately followed by twelve consecutive mine tiles.”
“Welcome to hell.”
“Ugh.”
“Understand now? Or should I explain it again?” Ian asked brightly.
“Nope. Wonderful lesson. Crystal clear.”
The elf smiled back weakly.
“Good. So we’re not taking this path, right?”
“Right!”
“Why not? Explain.”
“....”
The elf’s smile vanished.
He stared at Ian with utterly dead eyes.
Ian had never seen that eternally cheerful character look so spiritually exhausted before.
Oddly enough, though, the expression felt familiar.
‘Where have I seen that face before?’
...Ah.
He remembered.
The tragic memories of overexplaining mechanics to newbies until they quit the game entirely.
“...”
Ian quietly regained his composure as though his earlier enthusiasm had never existed.
“This isn’t really about logic. Dungeon design reflects the creator’s personality.”
“...?”
“And whoever designed this place had a terrible personality.”
“Oh. You know them?”
The elf’s innocent question genuinely caught Ian off guard.
‘Seriously?’
“You can tell just by looking.”
The traps. The puzzles. Everything about the place screamed wasted time.
One wrong step sent you into another trap. Every puzzle was a tedious grind. Endless hordes of mamool flooded the corridors like the developers had simply copy-pasted enemies infinitely instead of designing proper encounters.
‘They could’ve at least made an actual boss fight with mechanics.’
If some poor newbie reached this tower and quit the game from sheer exhaustion, who exactly was supposed to take responsibility for that?
Not that Ian himself was bitter about the grinding, obviously.
Definitely not.
“This dungeon isn’t designed to kill people outright. It’s designed to torment them first. You have to understand the creator’s intentions.”
Adding a touch of intellectual flair always made explanations sound more convincing, so Ian borrowed a phrase he’d heard countless times back in school.
The elf tilted his head.
“...?”
“If you’re going to kill someone anyway, why bother making them suffer first? Just kill them immediately.”
The elf still didn’t look entirely convinced.
‘To increase playtime.’
Unfortunately, Ian couldn’t exactly say the obvious answer aloud.
Everyone knew frustration made players more willing to spend money. But the elf had probably never purchased anything in his life, so he wouldn’t understand.
There was a hierarchy to game design.
If a game made people quit before they even started, it was third-rate.
If it made them quit midway through, it was second-rate.
But if it made them spend money while complaining the entire time—
that was a top-tier game.
At least, that seemed to be the philosophy shared by mobile game developers everywhere.
Which meant this trap wasn’t trying to kill players immediately. It wanted them thinking:
‘I can definitely beat this if I try just a little harder.’
Ian could practically hear the developers whispering sweetly in his ear:
“Why not spend a little money and skip the trap entirely?”
“Not my style.”
“Wait, but you said this route doesn’t lead to the exit.”
“I didn’t say never.”
“So it might?”
“No.”
“Oh...”
At that point, Ian gave up trying to explain further.
Building Savior reputation with this guy simply wasn’t worth the effort. If anything, lowering his opinion might actually be healthier.
The elf tossed stones into the remaining corridors, and after several tests, they confirmed the middle path was the only route without an immediate death trap.
Ian grabbed the elf’s hand again.
The elf fidgeted awkwardly at the contact.
Ian tugged him forward in silent warning to focus. Standing at the entrance of a trap while spacing out was suicidal.
“Why are we holding hands?”
“Most trap patterns fall into three categories: falling blades, arrows, or poison—wait, what?”
Ian let out a long sigh.
Why did this guy ask so many unnecessary questions? Keith would’ve just obeyed without complaint.
“If there are that many traps, wouldn’t it be easier to dodge them separately?”
“No. We block the blades and arrows together, and I’ll purify the poison.”
“Ah. I see.”
“And I’m not going to step on a mine. But if you do, we both die. I’m holding onto you so I can yank you back before you screw up. What, do you want to die—”
Ian abruptly stopped himself.
‘Wait. What if he says yes?’
“You wouldn’t even leave a corpse behind in here. It wouldn’t be the glorious death you’re imagining.”
He hurriedly added the clarification.
The elf blinked once before bursting into laughter.
“You were worried about me? I’m touched.”
Then he grinned brightly.
“But don’t worry. I’m not dying here.”
And with that, he wrapped himself tightly around Ian’s arm.
“Alright then. Shall we go?”
“Yeah. Back off a little.”
“...”
Once they reached the next safe zone, Ian tossed another stone ahead.
Three arrows immediately shot out from different directions.
The elf’s spirit summoned a gust of wind that swept the arrows aside effortlessly. frёewebηovel.cѳm
Then, out of nowhere, the elf asked another bizarre question.
“Suppose someone you love is in danger. But if you save them, your first customer dies instead. Would you still save them?”
‘Shouldn’t you first ask whether I even have someone I love?’
Why did everyone assume nobody lived alone? Even this elf was doing it now.
Still, Ian couldn’t afford to upset him. The guy clearly had a weakness for heroic ideals and sentimental nonsense.
“Of course I’d save them.”
‘Two mines on the left. One on the right. Two safe tiles ahead.’
Ian stepped forward and threw another stone.
Hissss—
Seven vents burst open at once, releasing clouds of poison gas.
A surge of radiant wind swept the poison away before it could spread.
The elf kept talking.
“Then what if saving them meant sacrificing a hundred humans?”
“Then I save the hundred, obviously,” Ian answered casually as he moved toward the next safe zone.
Wasn’t that the most obvious answer imaginable? Why was the elf asking these questions without even confirming whether Ian had someone he cared about in the first place?
“What about sacrificing a hundred non-humans instead?”
The elf’s smile widened strangely.
“A hundred non-humans?”
Ian answered without hesitation.
To the dungeon system, humans and non-humans alike were simply counted as one individual each.
The elf suddenly tightened his hold around Ian’s arm, soft white hair brushing against Ian’s shoulder.
“You know...”
The elf smiled.
“I really like you.”
His voice softened pleasantly.
“I think we’re going to stay together for a very, very long time.”
Ding!
[Dorian(?) thinks of you as a Savior.]
[Dorian(?)’s Favorability: 80%.]
